Whiskey Eyes
by obsessedmom
Summary: Someone is watching Jasper, but who is it? This is a drabble on observation. This idea stuck in my head and I finally decided to share it.    Rated M in case you convince me to continue it.   RxR
1. Whiskey Eyes

Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer but Whiskey Eyes belongs to Obsessedmom © 2010 please don't steal it.

~WE~

?POV

I sat on my stool staring at the reflections in the mirrored wall behind the bar. The heels of my boots were resting on the brass foot rest keeping me from bouncing my knee in anxiety. I watched the image of perfection, his hand was wrapped around a glass of whiskey and his eyes matched the liquid's color. The cast of the neon beer signs made them capture glints of gold making them deeper and richer. He was sitting only four stools away from me but seemed unaware of my presence. I knew the feeling of letting your mind wander, of letting the world around you drop away and sinking into yourself and everything else disappearing. It gave me the opportunity to blatantly stare without risk of being caught.

He wore a black shirt with pearl snaps instead of buttons. The sleeves were folded back and pushed above his elbow revealing strong muscular forearms dusted with fair blond hairs. The muscles flexed as his twisted his glass, swirling the amber whiskey. He had on crisp black jeans that appear to be so starched that they could stand on their own. His black leather belt sported a large oval silver buckle, the type awarded to the rodeo champions. His boots seemed to be made of some reptile… snake or alligator, I couldn't be sure. They rested on the brass foot rest less than a dozen feet from my own. My eyes traveled back up the length of this man in black. Did his black clothing reflect his mood, his heart? Was it sadness or grief that had him so lost in thought that the world ceased to exist around him?

I once again looked at his face reflected in the bar mirror. His nose was slightly crooked as if he had been tossed off a bucking horse and broke it but it had never been properly set. His rugged jaw line was scruffy with a day or two's growth of hair which only enhanced his masculinity. I wanted to feel his whiskers; would they be soft or bristly? Would they tickle or scratch? His blond hair fell in soft waves curling over the collar of his shirt. I felt myself pulled to him and I slid over one seat closer to him. He made no outward indication that he was aware of my presence so I bravely moved over to the next seat.

Now only one seat separated us. He had completely captured and enraptured me. He had lured me to him unbeknownst to me. He raised his eyes and met mine in bar mirror before he swiveled in his seat to face me directly. I lost any boldness that I had previously possessed and dropped my eyes to the worn surface of the bar. He spoke to me with the voice of an angel, "I have been waiting for you for a long time."

A/N This is a little drabble that was stuck in my head and I thought I would share it with you.

I never identify the narrator ~~ Who do you think it is?


	2. More Whiskey Eyes

A/N Whiskey Eyes has been haunting me and his observer had more to say.

Don't forget that Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer but Whiskey Eyes © 2010 belongs to Obsessedmom.

**~~WE~~**

_He raised his eyes and met mine in bar mirror before he swiveled in his seat to face me directly. I lost any boldness that I had previously possessed and dropped my eyes to the worn surface of the bar. He spoke to me with the voice of an angel, "I have been waiting for you for a long time."_

**?POV**

It was everything I had wanted to hear and everything I had dreaded. I bolted from the stool and ran.

I dreamed of him that night, and the next, and the next and the next. I dreamed of reaching out and running my fingers through his flaxen curls. I dreamed of trailing a finger across his brow, along his scruffy jaw, and tentatively across his lips. I dreamed of him pulling my finger into his mouth laving his tongue around and around the digit and suctioning it forcefully into the warm wet chamber of his mouth.

I dreamed of those muscular forearms wrapped around my waist his strength and masculinity surrounding me. I dreamed of the hard planes of his chest pressed tightly to my own.

I dreamed of touching every inch of his skin from the tender skin at his wrist dipping into the crease of his elbow, up and over the rise of his bicep, into the valley under his arm and through the silken hair. I would trail across his collar bone and lave the hollow there. My hands and mouth would travel over the sculpted muscles of his torso my touch raising his nipples to hardened nubs. The muscles of his abdomen would ripple and clench and relax under my careful exploration. I would dip my tongue into his navel and then I would lick and nibble and taste from one hip bone to the other as he quivered below me.

Both mine and his anticipation rising as I got closer to his sex. The slightly darker blond hairs trailing further down would lead me to his cock. Not too big and definitely not too small, but just right to provide maximum pleasure without unnecessary pain.

I dreamed of impaling myself on his cock feeling the silk over steel combination press deeply within me. I dreamed of him taking me from behind as I kneel on all fours his powerful thrusts driving into me. I dream of him hovering over me peppering my face and chest with sweet kisses as he ever so slowly brings us both to our releases. He touches those sensitive spots that send my soul reeling with the explosion of my orgasm.

The dreams are frightening satisfying and equally frustrating. I want so badly to see him again but my shyness is almost debilitating. He had said he had been waiting for me… Just what had he meant by that? I was both bewildered and curious. My fears made me want to hide while my curiosity drew me back to the place I knew he would be.

My anxiety kept me from walking through the entrance to the bar. Diagonally across the street was a coffee house with floor to ceiling windows where I could sulk and skulk. I sat at a table away from the window but where I could easily observe the coming and goings of any bar patron but not be readily visible to any passer-by.

Night after night I haunted the coffee house and each night when he entered the bar I would see him leave hours later alone and despondent. Was he hoping to see me again as much as I wanted to see him again?

Finally my desire won out over my trepidation and I stood from my table disposing of my coffee cup as I exited the shop. I had crossed the street and was only steps from the entrance to the bar when the door swung open and he stepped out into the night.

His eyes captured mine and hypnotized me. "You're here, finally," he gasped. "I thought I had lost you," he spoke softly as if he feared he would frighten me and lose me to the night once again.

I took a deep breath and stepped closer, closing the gap between us. I steeled myself to say, "I will run to you but never away again."

**~~WE~~**

_Thanks so much for reading more of Whiskey Eyes._

Press 1 if the POV is Bella's

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